TMTISTBH CH 13

Chapter 13

“I found it at the spot where she collapsed. I heard the box that held the perfume pouch was broken.”

“…Is that so.”

“Is it yours?”

Inho did not wish to reveal his name recklessly when he did not even know who the person sitting across from him was.

Yet, he could not bring himself to ignore the final sentiment of Chimseon¹.

After some deliberation, Inho nodded and met the gaze of Prince Eunhun. The unyielding demeanor and clear eyes pleased the prince, filling him with a quiet sense of delight.

After a short, warm silence, Inho, thinking carefully, asked with deliberate politeness.

“I beg your pardon, but I have little learning and have never heard of a place called Hwalwon Palace². Only today have I been able to receive and acknowledge Your Highness’s illustrious title, so I beg you to forgive my rudeness.”

At Inho’s words, Eunhun broke into laughter.

“You must have come from far away. Well, being buried away in a mountain valley like this, how would people from outside know? It’s my fault for not, like my other brothers, achieving merit and making my name widely known.”

Speaking in a half-joking tone, Eunhun looked at Inho.

“I am Yi Seong Dae-gun³ of the Great Taeseong Empire, and master of Hwalwon Palace, Tae Eunhun.”

Meeting the gaze of those vivid eyes shining beneath faintly lined lids, Inho was convinced there was not a shred of falsehood in his words.

Inho was not one to believe in the absurd. Nor did he think he had made a mistake. That left only one possibility.

Digging into the depths of his memory, drawing out a history long erased from all records, Inho asked in a low, sunken voice.

“Is Hwalwon Palace perhaps near Baekseon Peak⁴?”

“If you follow the mountain path northeast from Seotsan, you can climb Baekseon Peak. Few know of that small, unremarkable summit, so how do you know it?”

“A memory I happened to recall, as if overheard somewhere.”

Inho’s reply came with a darkened expression.

When he had first entered the imperial palace, there had been an ominous atmosphere, with even the mention of a certain incident forbidden. At the time, he had been too focused on trying to survive to even be curious. Only much later did he hear it had been a treasonous affair.

It was connected to the death of the Sixth Prince, Tae Piyeon. He had wanted to investigate further, but too much time had already passed, and he could not learn the full story.

Could it be that this man was involved in the death of Tae Piyeon?

There was no other explanation. Inho had never heard the names Hwalwon Palace or Prince Eunhun before. Yet he had been to Baekseon Peak.

A hazy image of those ruins he had taken no interest in at the time now rose in his mind: so many halls and people, the entire estate burned to ashes, not even a foundation stone left — annihilated without a trace. Thinking of it sent a chill crawling up his neck.

Slowly lifting his gaze, Inho looked at the middle-aged man before him. Nearly seven feet⁵ tall, with a large frame and open, handsome features, he seemed unassuming. The warmth in his rounded, sloping eyes felt genuine.

If he was truly a man of such compassion as to aid the injured without hesitation, he would surely be a good man — but it was still too soon to conclude that.

Concealing his suspicion, Inho bowed his head in respect.

“I owe you my life. Thank you for saving us, Your Highness.”

“Hahaha, that too is your fortune and fate. You’ve woken after several days, so don’t overexert yourself.”

Sitting beside Prince Eunhun, Jeong Ryeom spoke up as well:

“Your wounds are serious, but more than that, your vital energy is weakened. You should rest and recuperate for several days. The same goes for your younger sister.”

“Do you have somewhere to go? If not, how about staying at Hwalwon Palace through the winter?”

“Hwalwon Palace, Your Highness?”

At Prince Eunhun’s proposal, Inho’s eyes widened. He had not expected to be invited as a guest, and there was no reason to refuse.

“Yes, stay until the winter passes. Your sister is still young, after all.”

Fleeing from Jamsongol had thrown all his plans into disarray. He had found no leads on Myeongbu⁶, and in any case, he had no intention of taking Yeoseol to that place he knew nothing about.

Hwalwon Palace, neither too far from the capital nor too close, but partly isolated due to the surrounding mountains, seemed the perfect base to both investigate Myeongbu and provide Yeoseol with a safe haven.

Completing his calculations, Inho accepted the prince’s offer.

“I’m grateful for Your Highness’s generosity. Forgive my imposition, but I will trouble you a little longer.”

Once again expressing his thanks, Inho naturally lifted the cup of tea before him and took a light sip.

The perfect manners of his tea-drinking made Prince Eunhun’s eyes gleam.

So young, yet so composed and proper. His polite yet unflustered demeanor, combined with his mature speech for his age, led the prince to suspect Inho was of uncommon status. He exchanged a glance with Jeong Ryeom.

After finishing the conversation with Prince Eunhun, Inho left his sickbed and, along with Seol, was shown to their lodgings.

Their guide was a man named Gwijin — the very physician who had earlier been startled when Inho grabbed him.

Having decided to stay at Hwalwon Palace for a time, Inho apologized as soon as he saw him.

“I hear you tended to me while I was unconscious. Earlier, I was flustered and behaved rudely toward you. Please forgive my discourtesy with your generous heart.”

Gwijin, who had looked at him with a guarded air before, scratching his head at the sincere apology, replied:

“…I heard you didn’t even know where Hwalwon Palace was. That would be surprising. I don’t take it to heart, so don’t mind it.”

Holding Yeoseol’s hand, Inho followed Gwijin toward the guest quarters.

Perhaps because it was her first time in a palace, Yeoseol’s eyes shone brightly as she looked all around.

“Brother, this place is amazing. Scholar Jin—… oops!”

Chattering excitedly, Yeoseol suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth in alarm. Glancing ahead, Inho saw that Gwijin had not heard, then lifted her into his arms and gently patted her head.

“Everything looks splendid and grand, doesn’t it? You’re having fun.”

“Brother, I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. You’re doing well even now.”

Knowing she had done wrong, Seol stayed silent, her arms wrapped around Inho’s neck.

When they arrived at the guest quarters, Gwijin led them to a secluded room in the back.

“You can stay here. It may be a bit small for two, but there’s an adjoining side room, so it’ll be good for staying with your sister. There are larger rooms, but lately the palace has many guests, so we’ve no space to spare.”

Inho found the location rather favorable for being secluded. Looking around at the other rooms where people could be felt, he asked:

“Are there usually so many guests here?”

“Generally, yes. Many people with serious illnesses, and passing merchants as well… Even more so now, since winter is near and we have yet to close our gates.”

“I see… By the way, do you know where my horse is? I heard it came here with me.”

“If it’s the horse, they’re treating it in the stables by the West Gate.”

Thanking Gwijin, Inho entered the room with Yeoseol.

Though Gwijin had called it small, it was far larger than their old room in Jamsongol. The thick winter quilts prepared for the cold season thrilled Yeoseol beyond measure.

Since they had fled with nothing but a single bundle, there was little to unpack. Changing into the clothes provided by the palace, Inho scanned the room, which felt oddly empty, and called Seol to sit facing him.

“Seol.”

“Yes, brother.”

Looking at her small face, he found himself momentarily speechless. He ought to explain their situation in a way she could understand, tell her what they must do from now on — even scold her into keeping quiet if necessary — but his heart balked.

After a silent pause, it was Seol who spoke first.

“I’ll try not to trouble you, brother. Where we lived, why we left… no, I won’t even say we left. So don’t worry, brother.”

“Seol, you…”

She still remembered all the cold words he had spoken that day, even as she had sobbed over their mother’s death. That night would remain lodged in her like a thorn for the rest of her life.

“No matter what happens, I will protect you. I promise.”

Holding the child — too young to truly know what han⁷ was — tightly in his arms, he whispered the vow.

Hwalwon Palace was both near and far from Jamsongol. The steep cliffs between them meant there was no traffic passing, but it was no cause for carelessness either.

Inho sat Seol down and taught her something urgent just in case.

“Seol, if anyone asks your surname, never tell them. Just say that there are special circumstances and they should call you only Seol. That’s all.”

“But, brother, we don’t even have a surname…”

Answering in puzzlement, Seol suddenly seemed to realize something when she saw Inho’s stern face, and exclaimed in wonder:

“Oh! I get it. I’ll say I can’t tell them my surname, no matter what.”

“Remember your friend from the academy — copy her manner. Can you do that?”

“Like Lady Seonju?”

“Yes. Like the young lady. And don’t go outside digging in the dirt or picking fruit.”

“Uuh… alright…”

Seol let out a deep sigh, as if this were no simple task.

notes:

Chimseon (침선) — Likely refers to a person; in historical contexts, may be a court lady or person of high standing.

Hwalwon Palace (활원궁) — A fictional palace in this setting, but “궁” generally denotes a royal residence or important estate.

Dae-gun (대군) — A royal title given to the sons of the king born to the queen in Korean dynasties.

Baekseon Peak (백선봉) — A mountain peak; the name suggests “White Immortal Peak.”

Seven feet tall — A figurative description; in traditional Korean/Chinese measure, one cheok was shorter than modern feet, so his height may not be literal 7 ft by modern standards.

Myeongbu (무명부) — Possibly a document, place, or cryptic entity; the name can mean “Anonymous Register” or have other connotations depending on context.

Han (한, 恨) — A deep, often lifelong feeling of sorrow, resentment, or unresolved grief, considered a culturally significant concept in Korea.